


Of Seductions And Missing Names

by DictionaryWrites



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q and Bond bicker in the lab: Bond wishes Q would just tell him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Why, don’t you want to have sex with me?" Q raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair and playing - quite infuriatingly, Bond might add - with a Biro, letting its pen lid trail over his lips.

"Yes." Bond grumbled. "But not without a  _name_.”

"I don’t want to tell you my name. Here, I’m Q."

"And at home?"

"With you? Still Q." And God, for a man who looked like a fucking  _teenager_ , he was infuriating.

"For God’s sake! Is that what you want me to moan into your ear? Q?"

"You could say "Quartermaster", but it’s a bit of a mouthful. I could give you a rather different mouthfu-"

"Shut up." Bond said, and to his credit Q shut his irritating mouth, regarding Bond through the glass of his spectacles amusedly.

”Fine.” Q said, finally, with a sigh. “Call me Harry.”

"Harry?" Bond repeated, staring at him. "Your name is  _Harry_?”

"Of course not. But if you want a name to call out in bed, you can say-"

"That’s not the point." Bond said irritably, dropping into a chair and hiding his face in his hands. "What is wrong with you?" He sat back, regarding Q with a scowl - and he was not  _pouting_ , thank you very much.

"Nothing - you can look at my psych file, if you like. I’d say it’s rather a lot better than yours." Q retorted, looking rather like a man ready to accuse Bond of pouting. He was smirking a little, and Bond hated it.

"You are prepubescent."

"And here you are trying to coax me into bed. You deviant, you." Q said dryly.

"Shut up."

"Look." Q stood and moved closer, and then he was in Bond’s  _lap_ , and surprisingly heavy he was, too. “You don’t need my name. You’ll do absolutely fi-“

"How much do you weigh?" Q’s seductive expression abruptly dissipated, and he stared down at Bond.

"What?" He asked, tone crisp.

"You know, you’re just heavier than I expected, but you’re very thin, how much musc-"

"James Bond: The Great Seductor. And now you’re asking if I  _work out_.” Q let out an exasperated noise, and Bond grinned a little, hands moving from the base of Q’s thighs up to his hips, hooking into the waistband of his pinstriped trousers.

Pinstripes. Bond had thought barely anyone looked good in pinstripes, but Q was pulling them off. And Bond hoped to pull them off too - ASAP.

"Well, asking your name didn’t work out so well for me."

"I’m not going to tell you my name."

"I’m not going to tell you mine, then."

"Your name is James Bond."

"My  _real_  name.” Q leaned, dragging his lips over Bond’s neck, from the collarbone and up to his ear, where his breath was hot against the larger man’s skin.

"I have  _memorized_  your files. Your real name  _is_  Bond.” He murmured, and it was not the seduction that Bond had hoped for or wanted.

"What’s  _your_  real name?”

"I don’t have one." Q murmured, hands stroking up Bond’s chest before he slowly thumbed over the other’s lower lip; Bond enjoyed the warm tingle it left on the sensitive flesh. "I was grown in a government lab, you know. Never had a real name."

"Is that why all your files are sealed?" Bond asked, chuckling a little.

"Yes." Q said primly. "Now, joking aside, we should move onto a topic with a little more," Q’s hands went down again, slender, clever fingers unbuttoning Bond’s trousers. " _Substance_.”

"Boys." Q turned, a graceful arch to his neck as he looked at Mallory at the door, and Bond let out a groan. "Break’s over, Q. Have him later." Mallory said tiredly, looking between the two of them with an obvious exasperation.

"Yes, sir." Q said in a light tone, extracting himself from Bond’s lap and moving back to his computer; reluctantly Bond stood, doing his trousers back up.

"Bond, with me."

"Yes, sir. I  _will_  find out, you know.” He said, pointing a finger at Q, but the younger man just laughed, head thrown back, as Bond left to fall into step beside M.

"You won’t." Mallory said simply, rubbing at his temples.

"Of course I will." Bond returned easily. 

"We’ll have to kill you then."

"Kill me once, shame on you…" Mallory didn’t laugh, but Bond did - they dropped the subject all the same.


	2. Ideas of Torture

Q let out a gasp when there were sudden hands on his hips, but it was an act; he'd been notified as soon as his lab's threshold had been crossed. All the same, this was a role he liked to play - he melted back in Bond's arms, let out a quiet hum as he felt a drag of lips over his flesh.

"Mallory said if I found out your  _name_ , they'd have to kill me."

"They?" Q repeated, and his tone was teasing. "No. Me."

"You'd kill me?"

"No one knows my name, Bond."

"You've never killed anyone before."

"Haven't I? How do you know?" Q asked, and Bond hummed against the other's skin, nipping at his neck as he swiftly unbuttoned the other man's shirt.

"I've read your files." Bond said lightly, fingers deft and quick and practised on the buttons of the other's shirt and of his cardigan, bearing the flesh of the other's chest to the cool air.

"Then you know that so much is  _redacted_  that you'd never know if I'd killed someone or not." Q returned, and Bond hummed.

"Perhaps." His hands stroked down, from Q's chest to his upper arms, down the length of those arms over his sleeves, and on each side he covered Q's hands, slender and clever and perfect under Bond's own fingers. "There are other ways one can tell."

Q scoffed. "You can't tell."

"I can." Bond murmured. "You've never killed anyone. Woman, man, child. You've never so much as hit a rabbit with your car." Q was quiet for a time, pensive, and Bond nipped at the back of his neck, dragging his cardigan and his shirt off his shoulders. 

"You can't tell my name, though."

"No." Bond agreed, doing his best not to betray his irritation. "You could tell me though."

"If I told you, I'd have to-"

"Isn't that my line?" Q laughed, arching his back into Bond's hand as it stroked down the younger man's spine. 

"I'm not going to tell you."

"I'll just find out for myself." Bond murmured, dragging his teeth over the other man's shoulder and drawing a choked whimper out of him. "I could torture it out of you, you know."

"I've had the same torture training as every other lab worker here, Bond." Q reminded him, and Bond laughed.

"Oh, I know things they wouldn't have trained you for. They worked with  _pain_." Q shuddered as Bond reached between his legs, palming Q through his trousers and drawing another strangled noise out of him. "Did they train you for pleasure? Did they tell you what to do when you want to come so  _badly,_  but your captor is withholding your release? That's the most  _exquisite_  torture, Q."

"I know." Q murmured, tone dreamy as he pressed back against the other man, and Bond had to stop himself from hugging irritably against the other man's neck. "It's one of my  _favourites,_ actually, and it's been  _so_  long since I've been on the receiving end..."

"Damn it." Q's laugh was melodic, beautiful to Bond's very ears, and yet the most frustrating thing he'd ever heard. "No interrogation, then?"

"I think not. We can still play though."

"I  _will_  find out."

"Of course you will."


	3. False Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last bit: this little fic is done with.

"I have it." Bond said, and it was four in the morning and Q only had two hours left before he had to get up and go to work, and Bond had no  _right_  to wake him up like this if it wasn't with his fucking  _tongue_.

"What?" Q said, tone positively acid as he fumbled blindly for his glasses, and Bond was grinning in the dark. Q sighed, pulling the specs on as he slammed his hand onto the desk lamp beside his bed - he winced at the sudden light, but Bond just kept on grinning, looking very much like the cat who'd gotten the cream.

"I have your name." Bond said, and Q let out a sigh, reaching up to rub at his face and his tired, tired eyes.

"Quentin Jones."

"Is that so? Give me the papers, Bond." Bond did, handing him the stack of files he'd taken from the carefully protected and hidden safe that Q had thought was well concealed in the base of his freezer - not well concealed enough, it would seem. Ah well: there would be time to change that.

"Quentin Jones. Born 9th of June, 1985." Bond's smile faded as he watched Q rifle through the papers, soon removing another birth certificate. "Huw Evans. Born 6th of December, 1985." A third birth certificate followed; "James Kytes, born 9th of May, 1985."

"Do you have  _any_  real papers?" 

"Yes, James. But not in my  _home_. I'm not an idiot." He passed the folder back and took his glasses off, folding them and setting them aside before turning the lamp off again. "Put them back and I'll tell you. For God's sake."

"You will tell me?"

"I'll tell you." Q muttered, and he relaxed in bed again, pressing his face closely to the blessed warmth of his pillow. Bond returned soon enough, moving into bed and moulding himself against Q's back, hands wrapping about his stomach.

"Tell me." Bond murmured, replacing the full stop with a kiss to Q's shoulder: perfect punctuation. 

"Why is it so important that you know?"

"Indulge me." Q chuckled a little, rolling his backside back against the other's cock and drawing a quiet noise out of the operative.

"John."

" _John_. Mmm,  _John_." Bond moaned the name into Q's ear, and the younger man laughed, his own hands blanketing Bond - as best they could, anyway, given the difference in size. "John  _Doe_?"

"John Llwyd."

" _Llwyd_?"

"I'm Welsh, James, did you not know that? I was born in Wrexham. You can look for the birth record there - which I know you will do. September 6th, 1985." Bond grinned against the other's skin, nipping at the flesh there.

"Why do you keep it secret?"

"I work at MI6, James. Why do we keep anything a secret?"

"John Llwyd."

"You're not pronouncing that correctly."

"Aren't I?" Bond asked, teasing.

"No. It's an  _ll._ You're making the wrong sound with your tongue. It's Welsh, James, not English."

"So long as I have the name." Q chuckled, closing his eyes and pressing back against Bond, ready for a sleep. He would find the records, that much was true, and it  _did_  all match up where Q was concerned.

He would just have to warn Mallory to furnish the right reaction when Bond started teasing him about "John" - it would be terrible for M to drop the house of cards, after all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of Seductions and Missing Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220186) by [DictionaryWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites)




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